Warning: This work has been rated 16+.
I have been told I was pretty exactly three times in my life, I remember each time vividly each meant the world to me even though I can discount each one for a multitude of reasons that may or may not be factual, it doesn’t matter to me. I subconsciously choose to vividly remember something I will forever so strongly deny, and I am not sure why, if I believe it to be mere light words with no weight to them then why bother remembering. Why bother remembering their faces, the look in their eyes as they udder those three little words “you are pretty”. Why do they hurt me so, cut me so deep? The first time I heard it at the age of 17 I cried. They should be meaningless to me. Cheap empty words. Yet they matter so much to me and they shouldn’t they really shouldn’t. I should move on, not let it sum up who I am. Define me so. I shouldn’t care, so why do I. almost every little girl dream of being pretty, hell every adult woman wants to be pretty, how else would the cosmetic, fashion, self-improvement industry be making billions a year. Why are we so vain as a society, where does this need for beauty come from? Maybe its just me, maybe I just feel this pressure. Maybe I’m jealous of something I’ll never be. Maybe it hurts me so much because deep down I know that no matter how much I want to believe it, it won’t be true. I do not say this for pity or in the “I say I am not pretty so you will over dramatically deny it and say that I am gorgeous or beautiful in my own way or that beauty is in the eye of the beholder” way. Its crap. I know it is. This is not fishing for compliments, or maybe it is, probably it is, because I value beauty far too much, I have put it on far too high of a pedestal, to the point that I constantly replay those three moments in my life to help me drift off to sleep on sleepless nights. I won’t let myself forget that at some point someone somewhere for whatever external motive they had, decided to call me pretty. It revolts me. I am not special, they have said those words no doubt to countless others, they most likely don’t even remember, why should they, it was not the most monumental moment of their young adult lives, yet sadly it is mine. WHY!!!!!! The people in family are not great looking, I don’t have the best genetics its not my fault. But why do they have to put silly ideas in my head, inflate my fragile ego, make me mistrust my good sensible judgment. I am not a fool, I don’t fall for baseless frivolities, or maybe I do. I clearly do. I have taken to many selfies and have spent too long looking in the mirror waiting to see what they once told me they saw. Sometimes I can catch a glimpse of it for a mere second, but I know it is just a figment of my imagination a want that will never come to fruition. This is dumb. I have said too much on the topic already, it really shouldn’t matter to me, I need to get over this. I probably won’t get over this. That is what scares me most, that I’ll spend forever chasing a ghost that was never even there. I know those souls meant well but I wish those three words had never been spoken my way. Now they are seared into my brain, a brain that frankly could be doing better things with its limited amount of energy. But their words cut me so deep, made me so sad, made me feel revolted with myself, because of how badly I wanted to believe, yet how much I knew it wasn’t true. Then I start playing the mind game in my head, this tortuous game of chess that nobody wins. Why would they lie, why would they hurt me by telling me something so untrue. This is why I cried that first time, because I hate being lied to. I hate it, it is patronizing and manipulative. What did he gain from such a lie, why twist my mind into knots like that, those words have sharper edges then one could ever imagine and he just tossed it around so carelessly, like a child running around with scissors, unaware of the danger he posed. It is not fair to blame them, the child does not know any better, or maybe they do, maybe they enjoy the sight of blood. I stay far away from such children as I prefer my blood to remain securely within my veins. Am I the only one who reacts with disgust to these words, I surely can’t be, maybe I am, maybe I am the only person on this planet to twist such a compliment into a devious plot out to shred the little self-esteem I have left.